Black Fish
by bed of nails and sandpaper
Summary: A shadow haunted the two brothers wherever they went. There was no haven - no safe place for them. Until it claimed them it would never stop. Until it killed them they would have no rest.
1. April 3rd 1996

**Black Fish**

* * *

><p><strong>April 3rd 1996<strong>

* * *

><p>A storm had been brewing over Odaiba for days. Everyone had felt the air crackling and a pressure rising over their heads. When the sky finally burst the night exploded into chaos. Thick spears of water shattered against windows and roofs; flashes of light pierced the darkness and ripped apart the sky; rumbles, growls and roars echoed around the sleeping island. Many people stirred while dreaming when the first angry howl shook the streets.<p>

Yamato leapt up in his bed, ejected from his restless sleep by the sudden cacophony of noise that had erupted outside of his window. He gasped sharply and his eyes blindly searched around the room, seeing little more than thick shadows without defined shape. Darkness swirled around him in different shades and twisted faces faded in and out of the black, like lost souls dancing through a smog. Slowly his vision adjusted and his bedroom came into view. The panic subsided and gradually his breathing returned to a normal pace. The monsters that had been ready to leap at him retreated back into his imagination but, still, his heart vibrated in his chest - rattling in his throat -refusing to calm.

While he surveyed his room cautiously, reassuring himself that there was no threat, he felt a gentle tug on his shirt and whipped his head towards the source. Blond hair peeked out from underneath his bed sheets and fanned out across his pillow. The small, peachy hand that gripped his pyjamas tightened and a quiet whimper was muffled against his hip. Yamato softened his eyes in pity and swept a hand through his brother's hair to find his teary face. Takeru must have snuck into his bed while he'd been asleep. Sadly it had become quite a common occurrence over the past few months.

"Takeru? What's wrong?" he whispered and laid his head back down on the pillow they shared. Takeru pressed himself tighter against his older brother's chest, softly shaking and wiping his snotty nose against his shirt.

"He was outside my window." Takeru whined, repressing the frightened sobs that had plagued him since the storm had started. It had been a long time since he had last relied on his parents for comfort. Now his only sanctuary at night was the bed of the only person that understood his fear. Yamato would never turn him away and tell him to grow up. He never complained when Takeru cried too loudly or asked him to stay awake and keep him safe. Even now, when Yamato had managed to fall asleep for the first time in days, he gladly sacrificed rest for the sake of his brother. He just wriggled deeper under the blankets that covered them, wrapped his arms around Takeru and cradled his head against his collar. When Takeru reciprocated the comforting embrace he softly kissed the top of his head and murmured into his hair.

"He won't get you. Not while I'm here."

His words had the opposite effect from what he desired. Instead of calming down, Takeru became more distressed. His choked hiccups became agonising squeals and coughs. He smothered his face into his brother's chest to muffle his hysterical cries that were now too strong to control. Yamato winced when ten sharp nails pressed into the skin of his back, but he did not draw away from Takeru's embrace. He pulled him closer instead and pulled the cover higher up onto his shoulder until Takeru was almost entirely hidden beneath it. From the world that had abandoned them and the evil that had come to claim them, he hid his brothers tears.

"I can't take it anymore! No one believes us! No one will help us!" Takeru cried into Yamato's neck, wetting his collar with tears. Yamato petted his head tenderly.

"It's okay. We don't need them. I'll protect you."

As he said that he looked over his brother's head towards the dark window where he could still hear the pattering of rain against the glass. The thin curtains were drawn across it, shutting out the world, but he could still sense a presence looming beyond. Just looking at the closed curtains he could feel a pair of cold, black eyes staring back at him. He edged further away from the open space of his bedroom until his back hit the cold wall behind him and pulled Takeru flush against his front.

"As long as I'm alive I'll never let him get you." he said, but realised quickly that he'd said it more to himself than the cowering form of his brother. He needed to remind himself that there was a reason to be brave. He needed to know that there was something to fight for. If his brother hadn't been there he likely would have given in long ago and let the terror claim him to save from suffering any longer. They had suffered for far too long.

Takeru's shudders slowly eased into tired sighs, feeling finally safe in his brother's arms. Yamato gifted him with a final kiss to his forehead.

"Go to sleep." he commanded and Takeru obeyed. Soon enough he was sound asleep with his tears drying on his cheeks. His hands on Yamato's clothes loosened and his head rolled into Yamato's shoulder as exhaustion dominated his body. Although he had been sleeping a lot more than Yamato, he still woke up in terrified screams most nights.

As soothing as it was to listen to his brother's slumberous breaths Yamato remained awake, fixated on the window across the room. He fought hard to keep his eyes open despite his body begging him to rest. He could still feel them: the eyes watching him. He could always feel them. Everywhere he went he searched for them. He anticipated them to follow him, and they always did.

A flash of lightening illuminated the sky and shone through the window. Even though it had been obscured by the drawn curtains, and even though the moment lasted barely a second, Yamato knew that what he'd seen had been no hallucination. He knew all too well what lay in waiting outside of his window. Even on the fifth floor of the apartment block they could not escape the terrifying silhouette that watched over them. It would never leave. Until they were dead it would always be there; whispering into their dreams; reaching out to steal them away; haunting them; eroding their sanity until they submitted. But he would never let it take his precious brother.

'Until the rain stops' he thought to himself and crushed his family into his chest.

'I just have to stay awake until the rain stops.'

* * *

><p><em>So, what's happened here is a massive, accidental story. I suffer from chronic nightmares - at least two a week - and one night recently I had a particularly bad one. So, at three o'clock in the morning, I pulled out my laptop and turned fear into fiction. Before I knew it my nightmare had been turned into a full on story. I didn't really know how to rate it, so I'm keeping it as M right now to be safe. I wouldn't want anyone to start this fic without realising what's going to happen. But, if you guys think I should lower the rating later on then I probably will. So, for the other horror buffs out there, I hope you like it.<em>

_Please leave a review and let me know if you're interested in reading the rest._

_Bed. Of. Nails. And. Sandpaper_

_x_


	2. January 19th 1996

**Black Fish**

* * *

><p><strong>January 19th 1996 <strong>

* * *

><p>The overly padded coat his mother had forced him into made it impossible for Takeru to find a comfortable position. Crouched behind the tree he had chosen for his hiding place, the bulky clothing item prevented him from tucking his legs to his chest or keeping his arms at his sides and he was becoming more and more resentful of his mother's overly protective nature because of it. It was now the fifth round of their game of hide and seek and every time he had been the first one to be found. He had never been particularly competitive, but his excessive failures were starting to get on his nerves. Of course the other kids had an advantage over him, since they were his older brother's friends and a lot more practiced at this game, but that didn't prevent his pride from being wounded.<p>

When he saw the seeker approaching his hiding spot he pressed himself against the tree trunk and held his breath, naively hoping that it might help to keep him hidden. He squeezed his eyes shut and tucked his limbs as tightly into his body as he could. The sound of feet crushing frosted grass got louder and the rhythmic crunches zigzagged around the cluster of trees around him.

"Aha! Found you, Takeru!"

A boyish voice joyously exclaimed and a hand patted his shoulder excitedly. Takeru rolled over onto the damp grass in a tantrum.

"No fair! Why do you always find me first?"

He whined and watched as Yamato's friend, Taichi, skipped away to find the others. He took his time standing up and brushing the dampness from his jeans then, in a huff, he marched back to the playground to sit on the swings where they had designated the 'home base' of their game. Sulkily he hopped onto the shorter swing and kicked at the tarmac while Taichi dashed around the rest of the park in pursuit of the other kids. He watched on bitterly as everyone else was eventually found in particularly creative hiding places. His brother was the last to be caught. Yamato had managed to somehow climb up into one of the few winter trees and, once found, needed Taichi's help to drag him back down. Laughing together at the muddy mess coating the front of Yamato's jacket they returned to the rest of the group bundled around the swings. The rest of Yamato's friends praised each other for their clever hiding places while Yamato and Taichi approached a still scowling Takeru. He'd hidden his frown underneath the lumpy scarf bound around his neck but they could see his downcast eyes peeking from below his woollen hat.

"Hey, what's wrong, buddy?" Taichi asked and fell back onto the swing next to him. Takeru sighed, releasing a warm mist into the cold air, and looked up at his brother who stood before him.

"You guys always find good hiding places and I don't!" he said and wiped his leaking nose with his sleeve. Yamato chuckled at Takeru's annoyed face, particularly more amusing when it was red and puffy from the cold wind.

"That's just because we come to this park more often, so we know where the good spots are. Plus, we have longer legs, so we can run faster."

Takeru looked back at the icy floor and swiped his shoes across the slippery surface. He wished that he could find more friends his own age that could play with him. All of his friends from school lived across town and were probably playing together in a different park, but he was stuck playing with his brother with his only other option being to stay inside the apartment with his mum while she worked from home. He didn't want to be mad at Yamato, but he couldn't help it when he felt so helpless and young in comparison to him and his friends.

Yamato crouched down to his brother's level and patted the bobble on top of his winter hat.

"Jyou said he'd be the seeker for this round. Do you want to give it another go?"

Takeru sniffed and swallowed his frustrated tears.

"Yeah." he mumbled and looked up at his brother's comforting smile.

"It just takes practice. You can hide with me this time if you want."

Takeru hopped off the swing and adjusted his hat, feeling much more optimistic this time. He wanted to impress Yamato's friends and look cool in front of his brother. He wanted to brag to his friends at school that he had outsmarted the big kids.

"No, I can do it! I'm going to win this time!" he announced in determination. Taichi jumped off the swing and slapped his shoulder happily.

"That's the spirit! You can do it, Takeru!" he laughed and dashed off towards the others who had been waiting for the next game to begin. With his brother trailing behind him Takeru joined the group looking much happier.

"Okay, Jyou, you can start counting now." Yamato said and the tall, nervous looking boy that had been rewrapping his two scarves around his neck covered his eyes with his hands.

"One; two; three; four; five"

Laughing the whole time, the group scattered around the park, diving into bushes, climbing trees and sprinting back and forth through the foliage to find a free hiding spot. Takeru fought to put as much distance between himself and the seeker as he could as fast as he could. He weaved around the dangerous muddy patches in the grass and the half frozen puddles as he scanned the area for a small, secret place that he could squeeze into. In the distance he could still just about hear Jyou loudly counting up to one hundred.

"twenty six; twenty seven; twenty eight; twenty nine"

Feeling his lungs burning from the cold air he had been greedily sucking in he slowed down to a walk and looked around the area that he had found himself. He had reached the edge of the park and saw the high iron fence in the distance that bordered the grounds. To his right was an open area of grass surrounding several flower beds and benches, while to his left was a wild, untended area of the park. The thick brambly bushes had overgrown across the grass into a gnarled wall with a moat of mud and frost encircled around it. The ground was littered with fallen branches from the naked trees that splintered and cracked beneath his feet. He could barely hear Jyou's voice now.

"forty nine; fifty; fifty one; fifty two"

Apart from the distant sound of Jyou counting there didn't seem to be any other signs of life around him. None of the other boys had followed him as far as he had gone and there was nothing of interest that he could see that would attract other people in the park. The emptiness reassured him that he had chosen a good place to hide. He could fit underneath one of the benches or bury himself in the flower beds. Alone, the distance between himself and Jyou could guarantee that he wouldn't be the first to be found and he gleamed with pride at his ingenuity. With a smug smile tucked beneath his scarf he turned to his right and began to shuffle across the grass towards his hiding place when a whisper floated over his shoulder.

"Takeru."

Confusedly he halted his steps, uncertain whether he'd heard anything at all. The wind had muffled the quiet voice so much that he barely recognised his own name when it had been said and thought that the rustling bushes had been the ones to call out to him. He turned around slowly to face the park behind him but saw no one there. He was too embarrassed to attempt to reply to a voice he wasn't even sure existed. So, after scanning around the trees and finding naught, he turned back around. But, he hadn't even taken one step before the voice tickled his ear once again.

"Takeru, come here."

The words had been so clear this time. The voice was low and hushed. Takeru couldn't figure out whose voice it was. It sounded so strange and unfamiliar. Self consciously he pulled his scarf up over his nose and buried his head into the collar of his coat.

"Yamato?"

He hesitantly asked and pivoted around. He listened carefully for a reply. He heard only Jyou's distant counting and took comfort from it.

"sixty three; sixty four; sixty five; sixty six"

"Takeru, come here."

Again, there was no mistaking it this time. It sounded as though the person was speaking to him from the other side of a pane of glass, but he'd heard the words clearly. The voice had been coming from the spiky bushes behind him. Timorously he made his way across the grass, feeling an anxiety that he didn't understand.

"Yamato? Where are you hiding? I can't see you."

The closer he got to the cluster of thorns and branches the more he began to hear an underlying noise; a queer gurgling and spluttering drifting towards him, sounding like a drain swallowing the remains of water in a sink. The bush was too tall for him to see over the top of it, so when he stood before it he crouched to look through the knots of weeds.

"Takeru."

The voice returned in a teasing tone, as though playfully urging him to pursue the source. They were playing their own game of hide and seek, but Takeru was becoming more unsure about winning. There was a breeze on his back that pushed him forwards, tilting his balance until he was forced to fall on his knees. From this new perspective he found himself looking deeper into the foliage. His brother's face didn't peer out at him like he'd expected but, at the very back, a shadow was hidden within the thickest part of the bush. Takeru gulped down a thick lump that had formed in his throat and squeezed his shoulders through a gap in the thorny weeds. His puffy coat now came in handy when the plants penetrated it but kept his skin defended.

"Yamato?"

He cautiously called out again and the shadow shifted in reply. The lack of vocal response was unnerving, but his curiosity drove him to crawl further into the overgrowth. He carefully manoeuvred the weeds away from his face using his sleeve and wriggled forward until only his winter boots peeked out from the bush. The strange, watery babbling had increased in volume and he found himself listening out for it, thinking deeply about what could be making such a sound. His fingers sunk into the soil as he pulled his body onwards, ducking down to protect his face. His clothes snagged on the branches, keeping him captive until he untangled himself. The shadow was slowly coming into focus. In closer proximity, Takeru could see pale skin, almost blue in hue, and a tangled nest of black hair. Whoever had been calling to him from the other side of the bush was not his brother. This person was the size of a grown man. The gargling noise that now sounded inches away accompanied deep, heavy breathing that rattled around the person's broad chest. Frozen and trapped within the tangle of thorns, Takeru could only watch as a white hand peeled away the hanging branches and two black eyes were exposed to him. The whites around the dark balls were webbed with red and shimmering with moisture. They seemed to stare straight into him as though they knew him unlike anyone else did. They had a stare of persecution. Takeru withered beneath the cold glare and twisted himself further into the thorns when he attempted to edge away. For every inch he moved backwards the eyes moved forward the same distance and something coiled tightly in his gut as he remained locked in the menacing gaze. His will to retreat began to diminish as the white hands reached between the weeds and mud caked fingers extended like talons towards him.

"Takeru!"

Takeru gasped and something inside of him shattered at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Takeru, where are you?"

It was his brother - his _real_ brother - calling out to him from somewhere nearby. Scratching his face in the process, Takeru looked over his shoulder to try and find him. The thought that his sibling guardian was nearby helped to awaken his survival instincts. Before, he had been overcome with a strange sense of awe and intrigue that had overshadowed his fear. But now, the trance he had been trapped in having been broken, an eruption of terror occurred within him. His eyes widened with the realisation that this someone - or something - that still watched him silently had somehow known his name.

"Yamato! I'm over here!"

He called out desperately and clawed his way back through the bush. His panic increased when the plant seemed to fight his escape, clawing at his clothes and slashing his skin. He could hear his brother's panting breaths as he ran over to him and scrambled to reach the hands that helped to dig him out of the thorny trap.

"What were you thinking? It's dangerous over there!"

Soft, gloved hands wrapped around him and pulled him to stand. Takeru dazedly greeted the sunlight and reached up to wipe the stinging lines on his face with his torn sleeve but was stopped by his brother. Yamato moved Takeru's arms away from his face and sighed at the sight of the scattered red scratches.

"You're all scratched."

He scolded sympathetically and brushed away a few crumbs of dry soil from Takeru's cheek.

"You could have slipped! There's a stream on the other side of those bushes, you know."

Takeru hadn't known, and as much as he wanted to say that it wasn't his fault and retell the strange event that had occurred he found only enough strength to mumble a quiet apology before rushing into Yamato's chest. He was welcomed by a pair of arms wrapping protectively around his shoulders and a heavy chin resting in his hair. With his arms wrapped tightly around his chest, Takeru felt his brother's chest swell with his relieved sigh.

"Don't scare me like that."

"I'm fine."

"But you might not have been."

Takeru lifted his head and Yamato melted at the sight of his guilty pout.

"Don't worry about it. Just keep close to the playground so I can keep an eye on you, okay?"

"Okay."

Takeru snivelled pathetically and retreated from his brother's hold. Too shaken to care about his image he gladly took his Yamato's offered hand and allowed himself to be guided back to the main area of the park. But, before walking too far, he submitted to the compulsion to look over his shoulder. The landscape was silent once again - the low gurgling and bubbling strangely absent - seeming to be devoid of all life other than the two brothers. There were no leering shadows or cooing voices, and that only disturbed Takeru all the more.


	3. March 1996

**Black Fish**

* * *

><p><strong>March 9th 1996<strong>

* * *

><p>Painting had always seemed to be an activity that escaped Takeru. While the other children in his class threw themselves into the task, ignoring the given brushes and smearing viscous colours with their hands, he found mostly frustration. The teacher had told them to paint their family. Looking at the surrealist smudges on other people's sheets of paper there was little cause for him to doubt his capabilities, but that didn't mean that he didn't worry that he wasn't doing his family justice in his meagre attempt. So far he had spent the last ten minutes trying to make sure that his brother's face looked just right. He'd made his eyes blue, his hair yellow, his mouth pink, but there was something missing that he couldn't quite define. For some reason, he couldn't relate the smiling character on te paper to his older sibling.<p>

Disturbing his contemplation, the teacher at the front of the classroom clapped her hands together to call the attention of her excitable students.

"Alright, everybody, it's time for lunch. So, everyone, take your brushes and your paint plates to the sinks and line up."

At the mention of lunch her students livened up even more, eager to soothe their rumbling bellies and converse with their friends. Takeru had hardly heard the announcement, still concerned with fixing his painting. All around his silent, brooding self, chairs scraped on the floor, students showed off their paintings to one another and bragged about what they had been packed for lunch, yet he remained in his seat with his paint covered brush in hand. The boy in the seat opposite him stood up abruptly, shouting across the classroom to his friend and, in his haste, swept his arm across the table and tipped over a pot of mixing water in Takeru's direction. The murky, blackish water flooded across the table and soaked into his painting, dragging the wet paint on the paper with it.

"Hey!"

Takeru exclaimed and looked up to see the perpetrator already halfway across the room. With a pouting sigh he looked back at his now ruined painting and was surprised to find it...somewhat fascinating. In its wake, the water had left a long cloud of brown and grey across Yamato's face and the paint swirled with it, travelling in smoky lines down the page. The pink paint had been applied the most recently and without having time to dry the water displaced it completely until the line of his smile had been distorted into a dripping smudge. The character looked like it was screaming.

Sensing a presence beside him, Takeru broke his stare and looked to his left where his teacher had crouched down to engage him.

"Takeru, if you want to have lunch on time you have to clean up your paint. You can finish your painting tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

He mumbled and she picked up the painting to put it with the others on the drying rack. After clumsily gathering his painting materials he made his way to the back of the line in front of the sink. One by one his classmates haphazardly rinsed their palettes and mixing pots in order to rush back to their tables to eat. Eventually it came to Takeru's turn and he approached the sink. He tipped the water from his mixing pot down the drain and under the running tap he washed away the paint from his palette, enjoying the swirls of colour that circled the drain. Instead of blending together the colours danced in patterns around each other before disappearing down the dark passageway. Quieting his amused giggles, he lifted his paintbrush from the basin and began to wash away the paint that was stubbornly clinging to the strands when the tap began to splutter and the flow of water was unexpectedly ceased. He twisted the tap in both directions several times but no water came out. His hands were still covered in paint, so he couldn't pretend that his job was done and abandon the issue.

"Teacher?"

He called over his shoulder but didn't bother to call out again for her attention when he realised that she was thoroughly occupied with cleaning the table where he'd been painting. He turned his attention back to the sink and did what he could to try and fix it. He turned the taps, slapped at the spout, and twisted his finger inside it to try and feel for a blockage. He could hear the tank rumbling underneath the basin, proving that it was definitely working. Determinedly he wedged his finger deeper into the tap and felt something brush against the tip. It was coarse and spongy, but he couldn't quite reach enough of it to decide what it was. It seemed to slip deeper every time he reached for it. After some tactical positioning, however, he managed to trap some of it on the side of the pipe and carefully slid it towards the opening.

When he pulled his finger out of the tap several thick strings of black, knotted hair came with it. They didn't pull free. Instead they hung from the spout, dripping wet and still firmly attached to something else still stuck in the pipes. The hairs were flaky and frayed, as though they had been ravaged with a dull knife, and when Takeru wrapped them around his fingers to pull on them they bristled against his skin. The bubbling of the tank quietened and another bizarrely familiar noise rose in volume beneath it. It was coming from the tap. A strange gurgling and spluttering. As he pulled on the hair more of it came free and the louder the strange noise got the more confident he was that the blockage was coming free. After a sharp tug the hair slackened and slid free of its own accord. Takeru let go of it and waited as it poured out. Soon, something other than hair became dislodged and peeped out of the spout. It was white and leathery and too disgusting to touch. It squirmed, trying to claw itself free like a thick maggot in a tight bed. Takeru used the edge of the sink to pull himself up onto the balls of his feet and leaned over the basin in naive curiosity. The thing wriggled and inched its way further out of the tap. Its skin was wrinkled with blue veins webbed beneath the pale flesh. The gurgling sound echoed in the pipes, accompanied by a strange, pained moaning and Takeru felt a familiar fear awaken. The object further emerged and with its details exposed Takeru discovered what it was.

It was a finger.

A shocked squeal burst from his mouth and he stumbled over his own feet in his panic to distance himself. He met the dusty classroom floor with a loud thump and a yelp of pain. From the floor he could no longer see over the edge of the sink, but the image of a cracked, water-softened nail on the finger still haunted his mind. His eyes stung from the gathering tears and his heart beat wildly, feeling as though it was trying to escape his chest.

The whole class had heard his cry and most students looked away from their lunches to investigate. They curiously stared where Takeru had collapsed onto the floor and whispered amongst each other about the terrified look in his eyes. The teacher strode quickly across the classroom to Takeru's side and knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his trembling shoulder.

"Takeru? What's wrong?"

His wide and watery eyes darted between hers and the sink. She followed them with her own and inspected the sink for herself, finding only dribbles of clear water leaking from the faucet.

"Oh, is the water not working? Don't worry about washing up. I'll sort it out. Go and get your lunch."

She said and when showed no intent to stand up she tucked her hands under his arms and hoisted him onto his feet. His legs were shaking. Although his mind was willing to follow her orders his body refused to comply. He stood stiff with shock.

"Takeru?"

Her kind voiced soothed him slightly. He couldn't see the sink for himself but he slowly became aware that the strange noises he'd heard had ceased and now all he could hear was the patter of water droplets as they broke against the bottom of the basin. His shaky pants slowed and deepened. With the back of his hand he rubbed against his cheek where a lone tear had managed to escape. His teacher placed a hand on his back to guide him away and he found comfort in her protective presence. She followed him all the way back to his seat and pulled out his chair for him. Mutely he sat down. His unfocused eyes remained transfixed on his lap. He didn't care about the snooping glances from his peers or the gossiping whispers. His thoughts refused to stray from the realisation that left him rigid with fear.

He had seen that finger before.

* * *

><p><strong>March 11th 1996<strong>

* * *

><p>Yamato strolled down the school hallway curiously. His friends hadn't been sitting in their usual place in the school yard, so he had wolfed down his lunch at his desk and gone to look for them. After asking a few of his classmates if they'd seen them he'd found his way to this particular part of the school where they were all crowded in front of the door to the gymnasium, peering through the window.<p>

"What's going on? What are you looking at?"

Yamato asked and wedged his way in between Taichi and Koushiro, nudging them apart with his shoulders in order to share in whatever sights interested them. When he looked up at the door's small window he saw his reflection staring back and a dark void looming behind it.

"The gym's flooded. They turned off all the lights and now it looks super creepy."

Taichi told him with a cheeky grin. Yamato cupped his hands around his eyes to block out the lights overhead and pressed his face against the glass. As his eyes adjusted to the change of light the curtain of black slowly pulled away and shapes within the dark gymnasium took form. The gymnastics equipment had been clumsily piled up on top of several tables around the room, visible only by the small strings of light that penetrated the two filthy windows at the back of the basketball court. Lining the floor was a shimmering gloss of water. The water was so motionless that someone that took a quick glance wouldn't have noticed it at all if they hadn't seen the minute ripples that travelled through it.

"Yeah. That is pretty creepy."

Yamato agreed, searching deeper in the darkness to try and find the water's source.

"Where did the leak come from?"

he inquired, not pulling his eyes away. He thought he could see movement in the water, but found it odd that the bubbling water wasn't anywhere near the pipes that bordered the room.

"My teacher said that a pipe burst in the girls' showers."

Jyou answered to him, followed by a humoured snort from Taichi.

"Probably got clogged up with all their hair. Girls malt worse than cats."

Yamato's brow wrinkled in contemplation, locking his eyes onto a shadow in the water that serpentined across the room. In the darkness the water seemed much deeper than it probably was and the moving something looked to be lurking beneath the surface.

"Are you sure that's what caused it? It looks like there's...a fish in the water."

he said. The shadow didn't travel randomly. It looked like there was a consciousness behind its winding movements, like a shark swimming around a tank to inspect it for an exit.

"A fish?"

Taichi asked him, pressing his face closer to the glass to find what Yamato saw. The others did the same, nudging each other out of the way to get a better look.

"Yeah. There's something moving in the water. It's right there, by the back wall."

He never let the object escape his following eyes. The patch of black weaved calculated circles around the room, braiding the water into swirling ripples. Taichi, Koushiro and Jyou all excitedly scanned the floor but soon became frustrated that they couldn't find the fish that Yamato spoke of.

"I don't see it."

"Where is it?"

"Why would there be a fish in the gym?"

"I think the water's too shallow for fish."

They talked amongst themselves. Yamato could hardly believe that they didn't notice it. It was conspicuously large and leaving behind it a trail of moving water that was easy to follow. Every time the water moved the shadow was the object responsible, disallowing the water to calm. Many times it looked like the thing was close to breaching the water before diving back down, showing only glimpses of its grey surface.

"How can you not see it? It's right there. It's just-"

Yamato was about to point at it through the glass but froze when the object began to slow. Although all that was visible of it was a darkened shape in the water Yamato felt as though it was looking right at him. It floated across to the centre of the room and rested directly in his line of sight. Its stillness allowed Yamato to better observe it and worriedly he realised that there were no types of fish that he knew of that had a shape like the one he was looking at. It hovered below the water, teasing him with its mystery. The dark blur unfurled gradually, stretching four, long limbs out through the water. There were no fins or tail. It had arms and legs, and a head that slowly pierced the water's surface, exposing not scales, but sickly, white skin.

Yamato's throat clamped shut as he realised the horrid familiarity of the creature. He'd seen it before, but never so clearly. He just remembered thick, black strands of hair and pale, leathery hands that clawed through his nightmares. The presence of his friends beside him became unnoticeable as the water gave way to a white forehead and two black eyes. They stared right at him. The little light that permeated the room was absorbed into the red-veined whites, turning the irises into a darker shade of pitch. As much as Yamato could see nothing other than those eyes, they focused solely on him. They didn't blink. They didn't even twitch. They were the eyes of a corpse.

"I don't see anything, Yamato."


End file.
